Of Stags and Lions
by Water Creation
Summary: Joffrey's blood has began to be questioned so he must do anything and everything to maintain the crown. His ascent was marked by blood and he will make sure he will leave a legacy so powerful, none will ever match it.
1. The King's Arrival

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, plot or he sort from ASOIAF.**

_**Companion fic to "Great Ascent." This is the complete story based on that one-shot and will actually go beyond it too. Depending on how it goes, I might take it down or continue it. **_

_**If you have any questions or concerns, PM or review- I'll answer some way. With everything out of the way, I present Chapter 1...**_

* * *

Joffrey yawned discreetly into his palm, blinking away the sun's rays however faint they were. He was about to drop. Traveling for an entire moon's turn was quite exhausting and if he didn't have a horse, he imagined he would be somewhere in the middle of the road...from the very first week.

Surely his father could have requested the Starks to come to King's Landing instead of making the whole royal family leave the Throne at the foolish hands of the Court? Apparently, Eddard Stark meant quite much to his father.

He was just happy it wasn't him that got to be near his mother at this time of day. She was becoming more irritable as the days passed. Joff hated to think about how 'irritable' Myrcella and Tommen were. That was why he stuck around the end of the royal procession, just before the procession turned sour and became rankings of commoners and peasants. Of course, the quiet yet distracted company of his Uncle Tyrion kept some boredom at bay.

And of course, he could always just ride in the palanquin but the joy of journeying was upon the horse. Only Myrcella and Tommen rode in there with their mother.

Admittedly, he did get quite a workout just the day before and he had been tempted to ride on the damn thing. They had gone hunting and Joffrey had squared a good shot at the stag his father had been chasing for almost the whole morning. It made him proud that just for that one second, Robert had seemed prouder like any father would be of their son. The moment of course, was broken as soon as the stag proved to be already bitten by predators.

"Prince Joffrey, your father the King requests your presence at the front of the procession. He wants you to be one of the first to see Winterfell." Sandor Clegane commented quite nonchalantly yet obediently.

Also known as 'The Hound,' he had been riding beside Joffrey all throughout the journey except when Joff himself sent the dog to guard Tommen and Myrcella when he left to hunt.

"Funny that. Probably to showcase us to Lord Stark." Joffrey drawled lazily, "Where is Lucas?"

"Keeping order between your siblings, Prince Joffrey, just as you've ordered."

Joffrey rolled his eyes, 'They are such children.' Sometimes he was ashamed to consider them his siblings. But he recognized their worth and treated them accordingly. Myrcella would serve as a good bargaining chip someday when he sat on the Iron Throne so he always treated her kindly so that she would bow to his requests later on.

Tommen was his heir, in case something happened, so Joff always took Tommen aside to teach him a few tricks with the bow or a short history lesson that he found particularly important. Usually, Joffrey would hate to think about losing the Iron Throne, but in case he did, he would prefer his younger brother to continue upon the throne rather than let some trash do it.

'Better keep Baratheon blood upon the chair.'

"Alright alright, come with me. This had better be worth it." He ordered, spurring his horse faster until he had the beast trotting steadily. The Dog followed behind, occasionally throwing insults at those who stepped in his way. No one dared to step in front of Joffrey of course, so he had no trouble.

And indeed, he did catch an impressive first view of the frigid-looking palace. From this distance, it seemed mightier than even the Red Keep; a behemoth looming over them, ready to devour them at a moment's notice. It did have it's beauty however but it was a rough kind of beauty that was best marked as natural.

Banners of the white Stark direwolf upon the grey filed flew atop the keep. Joffrey almost blinked at the absurdity of this place and the lack of color of it. It was so drab but he was still impressed. If nothing, this place showed the Starks focused on practicality and military. And this place housed a potential ally of his father and he would exploit it all he could.

"Maybe this will be interesting." Joffrey commented, turning to his father who immediately frowned.

"Quiet, Joffrey."

Rolling his eyes again, he let his horse slow and walk beside the bannermen his father did bring along. Cold green eyes hatefully stared at Robert Baratheon for a second before it diminished and Joffrey admitted nothing would ever change so it was best to let go of any hatred towards the King. Better to not feel anything.

He did wish Eddard Stark wasn't another Robert Baratheon. The irony would not be lost upon him.

The Stark family was waiting for them outside, all so deeply covered in furs and overcoats that Joffrey had a hard time distinguishing Eddard Stark from his sons and Catelyn Stark from her daughter, Sansa Stark; also his betrothed.

Sansa Stark was beautiful. She seemed so out of place amongst the Northerners with their heavy brows and dark hair. Like a rose in the middle of weeds and grass. She was slim and had a dark fur thrown over quite stylishly. She, however, wasn't at the top of his mind right now.

Three other children, just about the size of Tommen peered out from behind their elder siblings. The rest of the greeting party was a mixture of servants and ostlers along with a few other guests ready to help the incoming King's party. Absently, he wondered how the procession must look: wagon upon wagon strolling into previously lone space.

He feels Sansa's curious glance and he actually meets her eyes and smirks before directing his glance to his father's boisterous greeting towards Eddard Stark. He is quite interested when somewhere along the lines, his father and Stark become somber and they deviate from the original path towards the entrance of the hold and to somewhere else.

He did notice the dark look that hung around his Queen Mother for a few moments before it cleared behind that mask of false cheer and queenly regality. Joffrey and his siblings are led by both Clegane and Lucas to the inside of the hold. Tyrion dispersed to the common hall, jesting merrily with Jaime.

Some of the children trailed after them like lost little dogs...or wolves. It's quite adorable and pathetic. Everyone is conversing with each other; celebrations and good natured laughs echo throughout the entire courtyard.

"It's very functional, Dog." Joffrey commented quietly, tugging another layer of thick leather off to warm in the surprisingly temperate keep. Before the Hound can answer, Joffrey catches a glimpse of the eager Tommen and darts to catch the stray silk coat in the child's hands, "Steady Tommen. Behave or I will tell the Dog to hang you from the wall. This is not the time and place to wreak havoc. Not yet."

"But Joff-"

"I mean it, Tommen." Joffrey muttered through gritted teeth, smiling pleasantly at the passing servant girl who tottered and blushed. Tommen deflated, looking quite offbeat now and nodded reluctantly, "Oh all right. I'll behave."

"Make sure you're ready for dinner."

With that, Joffrey slipped off to the darkened corners of the castle, eager to find its weak points and learn so that one day, when he became king, he could take this place as his own and add it to his kingdom. And would be the basis of the greatest fort he could possibly build. Something like the most impenetrable fortress on Red Keep.

Of course, he didn't have much time to get by since he managed to hear the some of the Stark children wanting to go outside and spar a bit. Like always, it also meant that he had to go and show his own abilities. Granted, he didn't have much to show. He doubted these roughed up little wolves appreciated archery.

It ashamed him to think he was incapable of wielding a blade. It was one of the reasons why, when guards and servants passed by his hidden position, he hid further into the shadows and grimly pressed his lips into a tight line. For being the heir of the Iron Throne, he was pathetic and he knew it because nobody hesitated to make it know.

It was his hope however, that one day,meh would grow to be physically strong so that people would accept him.

Optimism bled through again when he discovered a thrilling marvel of construction. When he touched the walls, he became aware that they were warm and not as cold as he had expected them to be. 'It must be underground water springs of hot water...magnificent!'

If he ever had a project like this one, he'd be sure to remember something like this.

"People are looking for you."

The voice came from his far left and Joffrey didn't have enough time to react to actually show some expression other than the reverence he had as soon as he touched the walls. A quick observation and he knew he was talking with one of the Stark children.

He wasn't sure which one though. He hadn't been paying attention when they had been introduced. Yet he wasn't so rude as to ignore someone when being spoken to, "I know."

"They want to see how good you are with a sword." The boy said quietly, raising a curious eyebrow at Joffrey. Joff had no idea what the boy was curious about specifically although he suspected it might be over his reluctance to showcase a nonexistent skill rather than explaining why he was practically fondling the wall.

"I know." Joffrey responded.

"So why don't you go?"

Tilting his head and wondering how he might answer it without exposing any weaknesses, he let his gaze wander distractedly beyond the boy, "I just don't want to."

The boy immediately dropped the almost blank curiosity and a new expression filled in the vacant space. It astounded Joffrey how open this child was...why, at his age, Joff had already learnt by heart that smiling was forbidden in public. This behavior spoke volumes of the Starks...more than they'd ever imagine. It spoke of honor, honesty and courage; values that didn't last long back at the South.

"Why wouldn't you want to? You're the Prince! You live with knights- why wouldn't you like to spar?" The boy gaped, little dark eyes sparkling with disbelief and childish innocence Joffrey would have labeled as stupidity had he not been thinking of his own failures.

Trying to divert the boy's attention would prove troublesome if he didn't do it correctly. "I just don't want to. I prefer other forms of entertainment." Gosh, the way he was wording things...

"Have you sparred with live steel?"

Joffrey would have answered but he heard voices coming up the staircases he had been wandering by. The boy blinked and it was all Joffrey needed to slip away stealthily. The shadows and darkness hid him pretty well and when he slipped into another hallway, his worries had dissolved when he caught sight of the humble tapestries adorning this part of the keep.

This tapestry was a story tapestry and like all story tapestries, it showed its story in beautiful and careful detail. The tapestry began with a single wolf- the direwolf to be exact- who was crouched in a hunting crouch. The beast roamed, all throughout spring thorough winter, and never stopped hunting. It seemed obvious that it was never sated from its bloodthirsty spree.

Until the tapestry began showing something he was very familiar with. Amongst pines and snow trees, man appeared, swathed in furs and holding crude weapons that Joff would have been disgusted to hold. But the direwolf stopped. At first, man feared the gigantic animal, but when the beast showed no signs of antagonism to new species, man began to attempt communication between the direwolf. The tapestry showed a bloody battle in which man fought against man and the direwolf appeared by the man's side.

It became apparent to Joff what it meant now. The first man and the first direwolf had began an almost instant connection against other foes. The first man had been the beginning of the Stark House. And the first direwolf had been honored by accepting the beast as the sigil of the born house. The other man represented the Southern men who had no doubt been at odds with North men.

His attention was quickly diverted when he caught sight of the stag and the direwolf running beside each other. Neither outran the other, both majestic in their own ways, side by side. Joffrey knew what that simplistic tapestry meant: it had been the beginning of the alliance between the Baratheon and Stark Houses.

He was struck with quiet reverence at how long the alliance ran...despite them being so different, they had stuck. The direwolf had never attacked the stag, no matter how bloodthirsty it could have been. Neither did the stag fear the wolf and neither did it try to subjugate it.

It made him wonder about what he would do with the Starks when he stepped in Robert's stead. Would they stay allied when he did, or would the wolf bite for the first time? Could it be the stag that would strike first instead? Did he even have to fear the Starks? Would they run beside him in the game of thrones?

Besides, Joffrey had thought the Starks and Baratheons had first allied when Lyanna's honor had been besmirched at the hands of Raegar Targaryen. Apparently, it wasn't so and for a time, both houses had forgotten their treaty until then.

Would this treaty be strong enough to survive his ascent?

Joffrey left the Tapestry Room with quiet contemplative thoughts. It was time for the feast that would undoubtedly take place in a few moments, judging by the lack of sunlight left. He had years to decide such alliance and he hoped it would be the correct one; hopefully by the time they headed back to King's Landing, he'd have a good impression of the Winterfell wolves.


	2. Small Pack of Wolves

**Chapter 2: Small Pack of Wolves**

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **_

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"_Who sits in the seat of power, O' forlorn King?" _

"_I, Serulian of Temara. My power extends to the oceans and my people think me a god. My friends are many and my family even greater. My children will rise and attempt to prove their superiority to me but even my name they will not reach! Why, oh, visitor do you cal me forlorn?" _

_"Serulian of Temara, today is the day I will add another river to your lands and water will not run but blood. Today is the day I steal your oceans and your people and your godhood! Today is the day, I, Prince Ulidea will uproot your tyranny and- _why are we reading this trash, Tommen? This is the oldest piece of literature ever and it is best spoken in Valyrian; the language is horrible and this modern version is bastardized enough."

Tommen pouted, placing his scroll down atop the table, "Maester Pycelle instructed me to learn this so I could recite this as soon as I returned to King's Landing. I can't understand Valyrian as you, brother. You promised to help me!"

Scoffing, Joffrey had to roll his eyes, "I promised to read a work of art with you not this piece of crap. _You_ tell Pycelle that as Prince, you will only receive the best of education and that this...this thing isn't it," he finished with a huff of indignation and crossed his arms, looking away from Tommen's aghast expression.

"But...but brother!" Tommen stopped abruptly as he seemed to realize the futility of compromising or even begging with his overly stubborn older brother.

"Come back to me when you have the real version." Joffrey added, further squashing any hope Tommen might have had.

"Prince Joffrey!" The Hound barged into the room, hand on blade and eyes flaming, "The King and Queen have expressed their desire to see how Lady Sansa Stark will fare in your presence."

It was well known that Joffrey's '_emotional_' bouts came and went with him sometimes forgetting why they even started in the first place and a wreck of a trail of destroyed objects behind him. His tutor often attributed them to low control of emotions while Robert laughed about it being the blood of the Baratheons in him. Uncle Tyrion said it was because Joffrey was a spoiled toe-rag and his own Queen Mother often simply told him he was different in a significant way.

Still, despite no real explanation, Joffrey always tried his best to be civil and tolerable to those he liked or disliked equally. Nevertheless, his parents often took quiet and decisive measures to minimize the outbursts; measures that became tiring fast.

Annoyed at yet another interference from his parent's part, Joffrey sighed but rose to dress so that he would indulge them. "Where is this Lady Stark, Dog?" Joffrey questioned, pulling on a fine leather vest and a long woolen cloak over that.

"With the Queen, Prince Joffrey. It seems they have found a sort of understanding between them." The Hound answered, still standing by the door with no intentions of stepping further in.

Joffrey rolled his eyes, "Hah! Let's see how long that lasts. I give Mother less than two months," he muttered, placing his blade by the bed, signaling Tommen that the blade was there and that it had better be there when he returned. The boy nodded, hiding a guilty smile behind his hand.

"My Prince, I suggest you bring your blade." The Hound said, "This is the North, not the South where I can keep all dangers at bay."

Joffrey turned to face the Hound, narrowing his eyes knowingly, "Mother didn't allow you to tag along did she!?" In response, the huge man did not answer, merely giving him a blank stare but that was answer enough. Joff huffed, still ignoring his blade but pocketing a dagger instead, making sure he did it where the Hound could see so that the man wouldn't give him hell later.

"She seems sweet, brother. That Lady Sansa, I mean." Tommen began.

"She seems breakable." Joffrey added, smirking at his brother who simply rolled his eyes as he knew better than to ruffle Joffrey.

"Well, she's pretty enough, I guess."

Joffrey could only blink strangely at the bashful tone his smallest brother used when referring to the Stark girl. While he couldn't refute her beauty, he just couldn't get the feeling out of his head that...that she was just wrong. There was something wrong with her.

'_Maybe it's the wrong in me...,'_ he thought, blinking at the thought again the mentally dismissing it with an inside 'hrumph'. _'I am a prince...I do no wrong._'

"Whatever." Joffrey commented airily, waving a gloved hand to show his disinterest, "Clegane, take me to Mother...I did not enjoy getting lost in this dreary place."

Sandor's eyes glinted in the dark; quiet amusement mocking Joffrey and reminding the Prince of the hours he spent roaming the hallways while trying to find the damned dining halls. Needless to say, Joffrey refused to eat out of the pure humiliation and anger he felt when he found his way simply by hearing Robert's nightly endeavors.

Sandor had, unfortunately, also been there and had been the one to remind Joffrey to keep his wits about by simply being there.

'_I will never do what he does...never._' Joffrey swore, his own hateful countenance sharpening with the emotion of being reminded of the King's imperfections. Of his family's imperfections as a whole.

The people played the Royal family as distant and uncaring of their problems. Those in court played them as a smear; so much that Joffrey had quickly learned of the expectations expected from him and embraced them fully as time went by. But Joff struggled for, always, his fears and ideals played cruel jokes on him during the night and those quiet moments in between.

Simply put, Joffrey was to learn how to be a god. Admiration and respect was what he sought and it was what he was going to receive. By any means possible.

* * *

Sansa Stark was a dull creature; beautiful but dull. She was a lady with her fire quelled underneath rules and expectations that Joffrey didn't care for. She was a nice lady, mind you, but she wasn't very fun to be around for her gentleness just truly didn't fit with his own chaotic self.

He had been led around the entirety of Winterfell. The whole day has been dedicated to showing him the sparring area, the shooting range, the small markets, animal pens, and even the godswood. Out of the entire place, he found the shooting range and godswood to be a place he could enjoy being. Because he had Sansa with him, he couldn't indulge in some relaxing shooting rounds nor could he stay and explore the weeping tree but he promised to himself he would return.

Joff honestly felt a bit put off at the humble hold. This place seemed to expect something of him in the way that he was just too...southern for the snow; too proud for its might and too spoiled to understand the connection of this place.

It was to say that he didn't fully dislike the outing he had with Lady Sansa nevertheless. He learned various things he never would have learned had he been with other sharper creatures. Dear little Sansa was after all, still so sweetly naive it made Joffrey want to grimace. Perhaps she would learn...

Still, it seemed that she was the only one. Robb Stark had an attitude to him, Joffrey discovered, that seemed to reflect the nature of the North. Wary and distrustful glances was all Joff received as Sansa walked them around the area. Joined by Jon Snow, Eddard Stark's bastard, Robb imitated the direwolf of his House.

His reluctance to show himself was finally coming to bite him in the ass.

His reputation here in Winterfell was was shaky at best; his sparse appearances had actually garnered him a nickname he couldn't decide whether to feel proud or ashamed of: the Prince of Shadows. It was a pretty nickname, that much he agreed with but it was mocking him. It was mocking his lack of courage to face up the Stark wolves. But... Pretty little nicknames such as those, he was taught, were only earned through respect and power and in occasions: trickery.

Therein lay his dilemma.

Ah but good gods! He'd overheard Robert telling Lord Stark, in a drunken stupor, that had circumstances had been different, Joffrey would have been Stark's charge. The notion of being raised by wolves of all people incited a shiver within Joffrey. He was sure that if his Queen mother would have heard, she would have raised a scandal with Robert for even daring to mention something as disgraceful as that.

It wasn't as if his dislike for the Stark's played a major role in that idea...it was just that...he really, _really_ didn't enjoy the moral code these wolves had. Or their compasses since most likely, it had been a compass malfunction that had led these crazy northern men to actually live on these dangerous lands. Horrible, just horrible.

Joff hated waking up to the cold of these lands. He was used to the sweltering and humid city of King's Landing; salty smell mixed with human waste too. He had heard though, that the King already planned to leave within the week.

"Sansa! Robb! Jon!" A desperate and breathy plea drifted from behind them. Sansa, upon hearing her name, turned so fast, Joffrey swore he almost heard several bones pop at the sudden motion. Likewise, the elder Stark and the bastard turned.

Arya Stark, in all her muddy and deplorable glory, ran up to them, tears forming in her eyes. Her face was a mix of horror and shock at something she clear,y had no understanding of. So it was with hiccups and pants that she stopped, placing her hands on her knees and kneeling from the exertion, "It's Bran, he's- gods, he's hurt!"

Hurriedly, Sansa took Arya's shoulder in a tight grasp and began shaking the girl, "What! Speak clearly, Arya. What do you mean?"

The small Stark looked up, sudden ferocity changing her from the inside, "Bran fell from the tower," she said, emphasizing her statement as if it was all they needed to figure out what was wrong. And looking upon all of them, Joff figured that yes, it was enough.

"No..."

Just like that, Joffrey was quickly left behind in a flurry of movement with only Jon Snow beside him. He didn't dwell of their departure, knowing that if the matter was truly important, he would hear of it later within the safety of the guest rooms. Rather, he focused on Jon Snow.

The bastard was looking after his rushing siblings with a wistful and pining gaze. The weight of that look almost seemed to light the older boy's eyes with a dark fire of sorrow. "Aren't you going after them?" Joffrey wondered, turning to the bastard.

"I-I...no... I mustn't." Jon said slowly, seeming as if just barely coming to that decision.

"Hmm." Joff looked at the retreating Starks then back at Jon and shrugging, turned to where they had all been originally heading.

"Wait! Aren't you heading back?"Jon asked, for once showing his mistrust when it had only been Robb who'd show it.

Shaking his head in a negative, Joff ignored Snow's inquire and trudged farther upon the path, "Mother hates losing sight of me therefore I will milk this opportunity to explore as much as I can..." Joffrey faced Jon, raising a perfect and fair eyebrow, "I trust you can keep me safe?"

"I'm not a servant." Jon retorted hotly before realizing what he said and adding a hesitant "Your Highness."

Really, the assuming gestures the boy used were typical of a person who wasn't quite sure of how to behave with someone like Joffrey. Like he assumed Joffrey was going to trick the boy into believing Joffrey was actually interested in the conversation before cruelly leaving the bastard hanging. It quickly became obvious that Jon was often overlooked for his pure blooded half-siblings and if the idea didn't send Joffrey's blood to boiling point, the idea of someone being as unsure as Jon Snow did.

"I never said you were," Joffrey huffed, rolling his eyes at the hotheaded Stark attitude, "I was merely expressing my hope that you could escort me around and avoid the hassle of having to find me in a snow ditch later on."

Jon's lips twitched as the man fought the desire to laugh but Joffrey smiled fully, "Go on, laugh. I bet you'd get lost in King's Landing too if you visited."

"Even so, " Jon began hesitantly, gaining confidence once he knew Joffrey wouldn't go bonkers, "I doubt I'd fall into a ditch."

"No, you're right," Joffrey accepted, inclining his head in mock deference which quickly turned into a conniving glance, "You'd fall into the stew pots where old women cackle and make you into soup."

Jon stopped in the middle of walking, passed by a smug Joffrey, "_What_?"

* * *

"Why do you speak to me like this?" Jon asked, turning to appraise him and deduct the honesty of Joff's statement. "I hold no power in Lord Stark's decisions nor of Lady Catelyn so-"

"You presume too much, Jon Snow." Joffrey sniffed, throwing the bastard a haughty look that could be easily mistaken as an authentic show of arrogance and not the jest it truly was.

"But you must have an ulterior reason for this other-"

Sighing tiredly, Joffrey said, "You're simply the easiest to speak to. I doubt Robb Stark will lay down his hand and stop threatening me with just his eyes. I also doubt the Lady Sansa will look at me in the eye while we hold a conversation. And I highly doubt I can speak with either Arya or Brandon or even Rickon...no, I'll just stick to speaking with you."

Blinking at the sudden outburst, Jon could only mutter a quiet, "You and Tyrion Lannister are so alike..."

Masking his sudden curiosity with a scoff of disdain, Joff said stoutly, "I would think so...that dwarf practically raised me. Although I have to say I wasn't aware he spoke to you...its unexpected to say the least."

More than unexpected, if Joffrey's honest opinion was out forward. The Imp was well known for his affection of '_broken toys' _as he liked to say but Jon Snow wasn't yet broken, was he? In the case that he wasn't, what other reason would Tyrion have to actually form a small kinship between them. Would Joffrey be right to assume Jon was more than he looked?

Would Jon be...a threat?

As soon as the thought came, Joffrey banished it to the dark recesses of his mind. It was simply unbelievable to think- preposterous even- for Jon Snow held no political sway nor had an obvious and pretty pedigree that would ensure a steady rise in power. Brandon Stark, a child, had more power.

"Yeah well...I just asked him some stupid questions. And he answered them rather honestly, no offense of course." Jon amended uncomfortably.

Waving a careless hand, Joffrey shrugged, "Meh, I supposed he asked about the Wall? He's been interested in it for the last several years and I have to say that it's pretty irritating. Is that what you asked him about?"

Sighing like a child whose intentions had been caught, Jon nodded, "Yes. I plan to...join the Watch."

"Oh." Joffrey said simply,

It was sad really. There were so many things the young man could aspire to be and he chose to crash early on. Did Jon seek honor like the rest of his brethren or was he simply looking for a place to really call home? And what better place than the Wall where cowards, bastards and criminals flocked together like fleas?

Or was Jon searching a purpose? The only reason Joffrey could come to conclusions was based on the fat that Tyrion had actually expressed interest in Jon; enough that Tyrion actually made questions and answered some others. The Prince knew how his family worked and more so his own Uncle.

The Imp had a strange way of showing his attention and most often, it almost ended with Tyrion being killed. The dwarf man needled his opponents; pricked and prodded until any exterior was turned into malleable pudding of emotions. If Jon still spoke somewhat fondly and thankfully about Uncle Tyrion, then Joffrey had to wonder if Jon had even spoken to the annoying Tyrion.

Now...if only he could see the deal with these Starks and he could have the other side of the equation...

"I heard my Uncle will be leaving with you...best bring a stick or two to whack him if he gets too annoying." Joffrey drawled, "And best of luck."


	3. Things I Do For Love

**Things I Do For Love**

_**Disclaimer: Don't own ASOIAF nor any characters. **_

_Next chapter, we got a bit of light stuff before we go darker. nothing else to say except: enjoy! _

* * *

Tommen couldn't hold back a shiver as he noticed the animosity in his older brother's stare. Joffrey's temperamental and often unhinged moments came and went in between moments like these and Tommen had grown to fear them. It was a surprise in itself that his mother and father had both consented to Joffrey's prolonged presence here in the meet.

When in those moods, Joffrey often spoke terrible words and...Tommen just didn't like that part of Joffrey's already difficult personality. Even so, he couldn't help but admire his older brother for the hidden tenacity he sometimes employed; in where instances often tipped in his brother's favor.

Tommen wasn't an idiot. The court forced every child within to grow up such that even at five years old, Tommen had the literacy of one double his age with the accompanying intelligence. As such, paired with his childish curiously, he knew of the severity to which Joff took of the Game of Thrones. Joff, at times, seemed too obsessed with being the best even though he already was. At least...he was the best out of the three Baratheon progeny. Tommen himself was soft and Myrcella had no ambition, a fact that leveled them as mediocre at best and useless at worst. Considering that, Joff was the only one set for the throne.

He was the only one that held their mother's pride too.

Contending for the throne just wasn't his thing, he decided, it was simply just Joff's thing. Although they might not get to it if Robb Stark and Joff decided to battle it out right here and now. Joff claimed, since childhood up to now, that he was horrible with a blade. But in Tommen and Myrcella's admiring eyes, Joff was still very able- especially with the bow and arrow.

Anything concerning arrows, Joff handled with expertise of a master. Or so the masters would say. A part of Tommen believed that Joffrey knew the masters only complimented him like that because he was Prince.

Still, the last thing he wanted to see was his brother hurt by Robert's notorious punishments. So he did the best possible thing he could even if it would probably trouble him in the future. Tommen stood up, bringing the attention of his mother who stared at him with inquisitive eyes, "Son!?"

"Mother...its Joff...may I leave the meeting with him?" Tommen wondered surreptitiously, eyes moving to where Joffrey sat, fists clenched as murderous annoyance clouded the boy's face.

Cersei paled immediately, nodding softly which prompted Tommen to get from his chair as quietly and stealthily as he could to where Joffrey was sitting. He grabbed his older brother's arm and with desperate eyes, said, "Brother, I have to go. Can you take me to our chambers, please?"

"Go? Go where?" Joffrey asked distractedly, eyes still focused on some spot on the wall.

"You know..." Tommen reddened, "Go."

Realization dawned on Joffrey and they boy instantly nodded, eager to get out of this hell hole that concerned only the adults. Instant relief flooded through the boy's face, replacing the negativity from seconds ago, "Let's go..." Joffrey hesitated, "I owe you one, brother."

Joffrey's earlier treatments toward him were forgotten when Tommen felt the radiant glee and appreciation settle over him causing giddiness to the point where he almost bounced his way out.

"Tommen, you'll pee if you continue to do that." Joffrey hissed. "Tommen- wha! No! Stop that!"

* * *

This one time, Joffrey owned Tommen a debt. At least is not something he's ashamed to admit; owning debts to Tommen was easier to swallow than owning debts to someone like Uncle Tyrion or even his grandfather. So really, it was no big deal.

What was a big deal was the ease in which Joff was easily riled. He didn't like that it only practically took a glare from Robb Stark's part to get him boiling. It didn't help that the smug bastard was probably mocking his lack of control...for a prince.

Truthfully, Joffrey just wanted to go home. Winterfell lacked the vibrancy of the South. Gray, dark brown, white and black replaced the reds, yellows, and violets of King's Landing. Where snow didn't cover the ground, it was mud that hindered his enjoyment. He missed the warmth and his general territory where he knew almost every nook and cranny of it.

Of course, he rather _liked_ the thick bear skin that had been lent to him by Jon. It made him look rather more strong than he was, more rugged and mighty. Clothing in the South referred status and ignored practicality except in its lightness to help with the trapped heat of the city. Brilliant gold and silver embroidery complimented blue, red, or various other colored dresses and suits back in court.

Here, everyone dressed to keep the dirt and the biting cold out from important extremities. Drab wool and cotton was layered on and impeded mobility to those who were new to this style- namely the King's entourage and the poor royal family accompanying the king.

The commoners must be laughing. Joffrey sure would if it hadn't been at his expense.

"Brother, you've been quieter lately." Tommen observed, "Is everything alright?"

Joff looked down to his brother, observing the green eyes that express worry and small amounts of hesitance. There is no hint of mock or pity; for that, Joffrey thanks the Seven that Tommen had too much heart to express anything other than kindness. In some ways, he can appreciate that Tommen is the opposite of him- they complement each other.

"Quite, little brother."

Tommen seems to know better than to question it, for he nods and faces the darkened hallways ahead of them. But Joffrey has one pending question before he can ease into the companionable silence that surrounds them.

"Tommen, have you made friends with any of the Stark children yet?"

His younger brother stops abruptly, "Huh?" He stammers, nervously wringing his hands as if the question was an interrogation rather than just a simple inquiry.

"Friends. Or acquaintances. With the Starks." Joffrey mouths rather sardonically.

"Well...no, nor really. Arya is really mean, brother. She does not behave like Myrcella and she's a rude and inconsiderate brat; she made fun of my cat and said wolves were better."

Joff huffed, an action that conveyed the derision that said, '_As if!_' Still, he listened patiently as his brother went on and on about how Arya Stark lacked the traits of a gentle lady and that she seemed more a ruffian than a girl. Or how she absolutely delighted in dropping mud on Tommen's very clean clothing- Tommen was _such_ a neat little brat himself- and tripped him into a wagon full of muddy and used hay.

Based on the considerable amount of complaints Tommen had against Arya, Joffrey assumed that other than the girl, Tommen had not been able to speak with Brandon or the other little Stark. And Arya seemed to be taking _much_ of his brother's time...

That little thought brought more amusement than Joffrey dared to admit and it carried on to the next day when the King perched upon his own palanquin with Eddard Stark riding beside him and began to head the entourage back home.

His own mother was two palanquins behind, Myrcella and Tommen's being the ones in front of her. Joffrey ignored the empty one in front, preferring to just let the servants give it to Sansa, Arya and their respective wolves, and climbed atop his horse. Myrcella and Sansa would love to be close to each other and Tommen had Arya close so he would not get bored. The Hound and Lucas flanked Joff and began to engage in small talk dealing with successful hunts and other mongering stories.

Behind them, like they had the first time, all of Winterfell was assembled in front to give the farewells as wagons and carriages led by servants and foot soldiers trickled out of the dreary hold. There was, he noticed, two individuals missing: Lady Catelyn Stark and Brandon Stark. A sure sign of the conditions plagued Bran but really, Joff could care less.

He had avoided going up to Lady Catelyn and offering his condolences by hiding around the Winterfell fort whenever his uncle Tyrion came around. Seriously, the man had a bleeding heart for a Lannister.

But that was past, already. No need to brush up old memories: the Imp was surely dead on the Wall- hopefully frozen enough so that even a whore couldn't rouse him- and Lady Carelyn was just attending a son that was weak.

Still, they had a _long_ way back home.

* * *

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_ Sincerely, Water Creation_


	4. The Children

**The Children**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF nor any characters. **_

* * *

It was inevitable that during this long travel, some fights would erupt as a consequence. Walking all day could get on someone's nerves, especially if they walked with someone who was annoying all the time. It was the reason Joff often ditched his two self-proclaimed protectors, dressed in soldier drag and mixed in with the common man to have a few words or so just to ease his boredom. It was something no one with royal blood as he should do for it was deplorable but if it served a purpose, he would do it. Besides, that was what the clothes were there for.

He had been in the middle of a good discussion with a man named Raun over the benefits of using a bow rather than a mace as most well-built men tended to use. The man had displayed more smarts than most foot soldiers and Joffrey planned to promote Raun to his personal guard for that and more.

Still, when the procession stopped, already in warm tempered climate, Joffrey assumed his mother and Robert were at it again. They and stopped on the way to Winterfell for the same reasons three times.

This time Joffrey didn't know what was wrong but he felt something like it... He knew what it was when he stepped into his palanquin and saw Myrcella alone. Red cloth covered the entirety of the small area with a few resting pillows scattered around a platter with crumbs. His smaller sibling was sitting daintily in the middle, looking every bit of Cersei's daughter as she did.

"Brother? I thought you left already." Myrcella greeted, "Sansa was about to join me. Did you know she likes lemon cakes...I think that's good to know for your betrothed's sake. "

"I doubt lemon cakes could solve any problem I would get her in, Myrcella."

"Ah, I don't know brother. Sansa is very nice; you could learn something from her." Myrcella said breezily as only a child like she would. "And lemon cakes are wonderful."

Shaking his head impatiently, Joffrey scowled, "Where are they? Where is Tommen? Why are you by yourself? I assigned two guards for you."

"Didn't you hear? Brother, where have you been!?" Myrcella explained, "Father stopped because he wanted to hunt! And Lord Stark wanted to keep going but Father wouldn't hear of it. Sansa and Arya are with Tommen and Tommen went to find you. Mother wouldn't let me leave though."

The matter of her guards was left unanswered and for the moment he let her. "Myrcella, why didn't you force Tommen to stay?" He cried, "I didn't go hunting with Father!"

"Because he wouldn't listen, brother!" Myrcella responded, exuberance turning to meekness, "Besides, I wanted you to tell me a story..."

Rolling his eyes at the weakness that came with being a child, Joffrey nodded in promise, turning away, "Later, Myrcella. I'm going after Tommen so tell mother I'll be along shortly."

"Okay! Don't forget to tell me a story!" Her voice faded as he stepped off the palanquin and he allowed himself a moment to huff at her ignorance.

"Stupid kids..." He sighed, reaching to untie his horse and then mounted it in one deft move. "If it's not her, it's the other one."

Joff really had no idea how to even begin searching for two brats and his wayward betrothed along with the accompanying pets. The sides of the Kingsroad were lush with greenery- everything from weeds to grasses and flowers- but the most annoying feature was the stagnant bodies of water which bred animals that were rather dangerous to the animals and humans in general.

He was not going to ride around like an idiot in search for even bigger idiots. The threat of carrying a contagious disease was rather prominent as he made his way down the road, careful of the scurrying servants and hands trying to make sure everything was in working order. However, he had an idea now.

Pulling the reins softly to signal the steed to stop, Joffrey glowered down a group of his mother's personal maids. "You! What's your name?" He called, "I need a favor."

One of the maids, instantly recognizing him despite the soldier clothes, curtsied and said, "Miriam, my Prince. What do you require?"

"My sister is without protection and she has no one supervising her. I would like for hat to be rectified immediately, understood?"

"Yes, my Prince. I will personally join her with three men willing to help. Will that be all?" Miriam inquired subserviently, her eyes never meeting his despite him almost daring her to do so.

"The Lady Sansa and her sister...I have heard they departed with my brother." Joffrey began, "I would like to know if you or your companions know of their whereabouts."

The group exchanged wary glances but as Miriam had been the spokesperson, she answered for them with a quick negative, "No, Prince Joffrey, but I _did_ hear of the butcher's son, Mycah joining them. The little Lady Arya insisted on his presence."

Miriam held her breath, already awaiting her punishment for not reporting this earlier. Prince Joffrey's zealousness over his siblings' protection was well known throughout the staff back in the Red Keep. Many debated over it but Miriam knew better than to even speak of such; doing so was well tempting the evils.

To their surprise, Joffrey simply huffed and began muttering to the women's consternation. He stopped when he caught sight of Lucas, "Thank you then...I'll take my leave."

Never mind that he had just thanked commoners but seeing Lucas right now was an unlucky turn of the entire hand. He could not afford to create a gigantic ruckus over something he could easily fix. His mother and - Seven_ forbid_\- his father would possibly take away certain luxuries Joffrey enjoyed. It was his fault his brother was even on this hare-brained excursion anyways so he might as well shoulder the blame this time. This would be his way of paying back his debt.

As for bringing back the Stark sisters; well, a good word in to Eddard Stark wouldn't hurt. In fact, it would even open up possible chances of stronger alliances between them when Joff stepped up.

Joffrey ended up having to round the entire royal procession to run from Lucas and somehow he ended up hiding behind a thick tree. Unknowingly, he ended up also hearing the telltale sound of whining children and horse neighs along with the panting of a dog…or a wolf.

He found them by a ravine that ran by the side of the Kingsroad about half a kilometer away from it. They were playing childish games such as princess and knights and the remake of the Robert's rebellion a few years before Joff's birth. Sansa is still on her horse and the wolves are by their owners. His entrance is unnoticed except by the wolves; he happened to be just by Sansa when the girl turns and shrieks, alerting the children too.

"Lady Sansa."

"P-Prince Joffrey…" Sansa stuttered, her voice overtaken by Tommen's excited call.

"Brother! How'd you find us?" Tommen asked, "I thought we were far away already."

"Yes. It seems very much hidden, Tommen." Joffrey agreed stonily, "If I may ask, what possessed you to do this? I understand it gets dull but you must stay within sight."

"But I am safe brother. We have Lady Sansa and the Stark wolves too." Tommen argued, seeing Joffrey's point before the older sibling could state it, "We're just having fun."

"I understand Tommen but did you know that the procession is already moving. I was sent to look for you since the guards noticed Myrcella was alone." Joffrey lied, face not revealing it whatsoever, "I sincerely hope you know the trouble that awaits you."

Sansa neared, "I apologize, Prince Joffrey, I didn't think of the consequences when I agreed for this trip." She said sadly, "I am oldest here so I must take fault-"

"I appreciate the action, Lady Sansa, but as heir of throne we must set an example and Tommen will receive his punishment." The words_, 'I leave you to your father's discipline,_' was left unsaid.

"And you're the ever righteous bastard, aren't you?" Arya, Sansa's little sister bit out, "You can't even fight- I've seen how you are and I'm not impressed. You have no right to tell us what we can and can't do. Besides, I know you're lying."

"Hey, don't call my brother like that," Tommen exclaimed, "He's worth ten of that stupid brother of yours!"

"Shut up! Idiots like you are just all talk...just like your brother." Arya shrieked, at wits end from the entire 'adventure' the children just had.

What had the brats been doing that put them in such a bad mood that all it had taken was a small scolding from Joffrey's part to set them off? A scolding that hadn't even been directed at the Starks at all. He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

Had Joffrey known the brats would be as ill-tempered as they were, he would have brought some servant to placate all of them and help him bring them all peacefully. His head hurt, to put it simply, and for some strange reason, he felt as if the entire trip exhausted him. If he didn't hurry up, he would also end up fighting with these ingrates and his own family and perhaps even Lord Stark.

Sansa, as usual, was meeker than a calf and her disposition didn't allow her to even speak in his presence, even where her sister was concerned. That didn't mean she wasn't thinking of it for her entire face hinted at the incensed furnace she hid within her. What little he did know of her was easily gained by how the girl acted; she loved stories of knights and maidens, singing and dresses.

"You're an ugly girl, you know that!?" Tommen advanced on Arya and the butcher's boy, Mycah stepped beside Arya. Tommen took one look at him and arched his eyebrow distastefully, "Associating with commoners! Bah- you even look like one."

"So what! At least I have friends and you don't! Mycah is better at playing than you are. You are nothing but a spoiled toe-rag!"

"Arya..." Sansa's warning was ignored. Her voice had been too soft and didn't achieve a certain tone of threat that would have scared her sister into obedience. But Joffrey wasn't really paying attention.

He was paying attention, of sorts, but to the wolf beside Arya. The female had her hackles up and prickling with pent up tension and the eyes that showed the beast's intelligence moved from person to person but stayed mostly on Arya and Tommen. Joffrey was hypnotized. Not because of the beauty of the beast but because of the danger she posed.

He didn't need a brain to see that a small physical alteration was all that was needed to set the wolf off. But he couldn't move to stop Tommen and that was his worst mistake. During his quiet moment of realization, he failed to hear the rest of the conversation and he also failed to see Sansa's pleading visage turn to a bemused one then to a horrified one when she noticed what he was staring at.

Everything happened so quickly; everything went downhill in seconds. One moment, Arya was staring at Tommen with hurt and tears in her eyes, the next Mycah was pushing Tommen, who retaliated by sending a kick to Mycah. Arya's wolf was ready: hind legs bent and ready for a pounce and her muzzle was drawn in a terrifying snarl. Joffrey saw it before anyone else did.

"Tommen! No Tommen!"

Joffrey didn't think once of his safety before he jumped in front of his brother and pushed him away just barely before the wolf was atop him. Tommen tumbled down to the floor and propped himself up to look at his brother. Sansa screamed at Arya but by then it was too late and his soundless shriek was cut short when he felt cold teeth and saliva mix with the guzzling blood of his back. The impact of the animal sent Joffrey rolling to the side with the animal on top and attacking at his back.

Unconsciousness was too slow by then as the fiery signature of pain traveled to his bones. He had enough sense to cover the back of his neck with his arms so that the animal didn't kill him or maim him there. He did manage to catch the sight of a terrified trio of children before darkness engulfed him fully; darkness he greeted with a scream.


	5. Goodbye, Brother

**Goodbye, Brother**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF or any characters within. _**

* * *

Tommen walked all the way back to his palanquin in a daze; his entire body feeling numb and just…dead to even himself. No matter how much the servants attempt to make him eat or drink, he doesn't because he feels, to some level, that he will just bring it back up in a bout of disgust.

Myrcella tries to help but it's useless too. Not even Mother or Father can move him from his position on the floor. He is aware of what his brother would do to move him; if not a soft kick, then a derisive comment over how pathetic he looked. But this time, Joffrey is not here to do that and its very much disappointing.

There's so many emotions running through him, even cuddling the corner of the palanquin is a struggle. _'I hate Arya Stark_,' he decides absently, '_I hate her so much._' The little peasant had scrammed as soon as Joff had screamed and she had taken her wolf with her, leaving sweet Sansa behind with tears in her eyes. The traitor had also left behind the very friend she had sworn to like better.

The very first thing he had done when Joffrey's scream had alerted the adults and had brought his guard with the escort was order Sandor Clegane to capture the little bastard Mycah. He managed to get sweet satisfaction from that and he liked the way his mind imagined Arya's face once she heard what happened.

Tommen hoped Mycah was killed. But overall, he hoped Arya Stark got what she deserved. He wished he could bring her what she deserved; she deserved to be humiliated, to lose everything she held dear and finally, she deserved to die.

His brother was hurting…and he was dying and it was all because of Arya Stark. Joffrey was _dying_. Joffrey couldn't die. He couldn't be beaten because he was better than that so why was it happening!? What would happen once…once Joff was gone? How could anything function after that?

Tommen was not an idiot or a fool. He did not hold illusions like Myrcella did- even she was a little better than someone like Arya Stark- and he knew that this incident would not be placed under the rug. More than anything, he knew the Maester back at King's Landing would probably not be able to save Joffrey. He had been told a long time ago that recovering from things like these was almost near impossible and with Joffrey having to wait two days until they could arrive to King's Landing…well, it didn't look promising to anybody.

The only thing Tommen could do now, besides lament and torture himself, was to enact his own revenge. Mycah's punishment was only the top of his revenge; it barely managed to satisfy his blood thirst. (_Goodness, was this what Joffrey felt all the time?)_ Tommen would hurt Arya so bad, she would cry blood when this was all over.

He had been taught since he had been little that everything worth having was worth fighting for and even better, that everything he wished to do was better done by himself. Tommen disagreed with the last statement because it was so unbecoming of a Lannister. There were some days when he considered himself more of a Lannister than a Baratheon.

Today was one such day and he reveled in it.

* * *

Lucas looked at the tent's entrance angrily, pacing and stroking his blade as if could provide comfort with the ideas of wielding it. His Prince needed him dammit! And where was he? '_Placed on guard like common trash while I should be hunting that mutt down!'_

Sandor held similar ideas, clearly, if the face of the man was of any sign. However, the Queen's presence along the King's held their tongues and anger as they were aware of what displeasing them would bring. The Queen was the most worried out of the Royal couple but she was the one who showed it the least with her stoic, almost frosty look. The King was an interesting tint of white and not even Lord Eddard's quiet consolations and apologies were of any help.

Lucas had been the first to hear his Prince's screams and Sandor had been the first one at the scene. It had been horrible, even to Lucas' eyes for the Prince had been covered completely in blood. Sandor had unsaddled and taken off at high speeds to carry Joffrey but both had quickly seen the danger of doing such.

Lady Sansa Stark had been frozen with terror and shock, so much that when her wolf was grabbed and tied tightly, she did not complain nor notice. The little prince had been in a similar state and it had fallen upon Lucas to help the lady onto her own horse as well as help Tommen. The stranger boy, a peasant by the looks of it, had been apprehended at Tommen's order.

And what a strange order that had been. The little prince's voice had held so much hatred and anger that at that time, he greatly resembled and matched the temper of his older brother along with his father's. Sandor had tied the boy to his saddle and dragged him all the way back to the procession.

Joffrey had held much of the attention and by the time the two guardians had been halfway there, they had been met by a larger escort composed of soldiers and the King himself alongside Lord Stark. Lucas would forever be impressed at the haste of the King himself when it concerned his son; at least it served to reassure him that the man did love Joff in some strange way, if nothing else.

While the travel to completely enter King's Landing would take two days, a tent had been erected at once to treat Joff's most severe wounds. They counted of at least three lacerations running down the spine and one bite where the wolf had almost snapped the prince's head clean off. The minor wounds were little scratches where the wolf had dug claws and ran them over the skin. Every maid and servant; hedge wizard and woman healers were brought forward to treat Joffrey and had the tent not been big enough, it would have probably already burst from all the activity happening within.

Lucas could not begin to count the amount of wine that had been boiled, nor the amount of herbs that had been brought from the wilds or even the amount of clean linen, rags and cloth that were brought in clean and then out, dripping blood and smelling of rust and death.

The Stark children had been brought and confined within their father's wagons with men to look after them; not as a measure of protection but as precedent for punishment, Lucas noticed. The wolf that belonged to Sansa Stark had been chained and kept in a cage but as for the other wolf, the patrols were still searching.

"Ser Lucas?" Queen Cersei beckoned coldly, "Why was my son hurt on your watch? Answer wisely."

Lucas immediately bowed, "I have been careless with my liege, Your Grace and I most humbly ask for forgiveness…I lost sight of him when he went to inquire to Princess Myrcella about Prince Tommen's absence."

Queen Cersei's eyes narrowed at the information and she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, a careless motion that brought surprise to Lucas for the Queen was not known for being forgiving. Still, he wondered how the queen had not known about the disappearance of her children or the status of her daughter's protection. Did she really favor Joff over those two and that was why she had been like that?

"On another note, bring me Tommen and Myrcella. I wish for them to see what their foolishness has wrought." Queen Cersei ordered as Lucas retreated, "Afterwards, I want you to find me those three that were guarding Myrcella. I want them to continue that particular duty."

Bowing, he made his quick retreat, "As my Queen wishes."

Yes. Joff was favored. Good thing Joffrey was aware of such and always spent time with his siblings. Lucas had always received poor excuses about Joffrey only doing it because they were political tools or some other rubbish but Lucas really believed Joffrey loved his siblings. He blamed the system that was in place in the southern court; no child was ever truly a child there…ever.

He walked away from the tent, giving it a forlorn gaze as he did, leaving his prince behind like that. It feels like…like one of the worst mistakes he could ever do.

* * *

Tommen looks up when the curtain is moved aside.

He has tidied himself up a bit. No longer do tears run down his face nor does he have a runny nose. Instead, he has washed and changed clothing- a darker attire that shows his mourning state- and he has a fire within him that he has never felt but he loves the feeling of it. If this is what Joffrey always felt, he could see why and he wished he could feel it too…always.

Lucas, his brother's most loyal friend and subordinate apart from Sandor, stands on the entrance with visible frustration upon his features. Tommen can imagine why.

"The Queen calls, Prince Tommen. I am to escort you to her along with the Princess Myrcella; may you know where she is?" Lucas wondered.

"I can tell you." Tommen said quietly, "But you must take me to the back of the procession…to where the camp followers are."

There's shock in Lucas' eyes and he shakes his head warily, "Prince Tommen…I cannot do that." The knight looked down, "I have already failed your brother and I cannot fail once more. Do not ask me to…to defy your mother."

To a certain point, Tommen understood the fear men had of his mother. He has it too. But this time, not even Mother could interfere; Joffrey's memory was at stake. Perhaps Tommen was moving too fast, already acting as if Joffrey was dead but if he waited until he heard it, he would break. Tommen couldn't do that, not when he already shamed Joffrey.

"I do not care of what Mother thinks or what punishment you seek to avoid. I want you to escort me there and protect me or I will have you stripped of your title as Knight." Tommen ordered, teeth grinding in Baratheon fury, "You understand?"

Tommen grinned when Lucas nods so fast, it's a wonder his head doesn't fly off.

There is one weak link where the Stark family is concerned and it is back in Winterfell. Arya would rue the day she messed with the heirs of the Royal Crown and she would suffer for it too.

* * *

Joffrey awakens to the sound of a lullaby that he has not heard since Uncle Tyrion called in servant girls to sing to him when he was the age of Tommen; eight. His vision is hazy and he has trouble recognizing what is really happening around him and why he is here. There is a lot of pain and he wants to cry out for help to anyone but he, even in this state, knows that is simply unacceptable.

He somehow manages to remember he is Prince and most of all; Crown Prince of the Iron Throne.

Joff watches through half-lidded eyes as several women approach with basins of a smelly substance. They begin to speak but he cannot hear them. All he hears is the lullaby. It lulls him back to that plane of existence that is so blurry and so…freeing at the same time.

With exhaustion that makes it as if he's the heaviest metal of the known world, he slips back into the darkness with the sight of a golden haired and fair woman opening her mouth in a soundless scream.

He feels lost.

* * *

Tommen looks on ahead as the procession enters King's Landing. Myrcella sits behind him and their mother overlooks them. Only King Robert is dressed in his royal clothing but the rest are clothed in black. He can't help but think that they are all acting…so extravagantly for just Joffrey. They've taken it to the next level and Joffrey would have hated it.

The smell of the city's inhabitants- sweat, sewage and blood- is barely there as it is covered with the scent of death. This fact is even more truthful for Tommen who smells the scent of death from all the way to Winterfell. Behind the veil he uses to cover the most prominent of smells in King's Landing, Prince Tommen smiles.

* * *

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**_ Water Creation_**


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